


Sly San Who Sacrifices (Badboy!AU)

by chasingatinydream



Series: More Than Meets The Eye (Badboy!AU) [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: ATEEZ Fanfiction, AU, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fanfiction, Romance, badboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2019-11-15 14:44:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18075368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingatinydream/pseuds/chasingatinydream
Summary: To the school, he may be a bad boy, the worst of the worst. Some admire him from afar, most fear him, many hate him, but to you, he’s just Choi San, father of three cats, your best friend and ultimately, the boy you’re in love with. However, even as you chase down his heart, it seems that the biggest obstacle to finding San's happiness is San himself.





	1. Skipping Class

San has often been called ‘catlike’.

It’s no surprise, given his near obsession with picking up strays from roadsides and giving them a home in his family’s third mansion, where he lives, and his behaviour does remind you of a cat’s. There’s something distinctively feline about him, from those uncannily sharp eyes to his whimsical, distinctly teasing personality. Some find it off putting, citing him as arrogant and aloof, but you know him better than that.

He’s your best friend, after all.

Honestly, you’re not very sure how the two of you became friends. It’d started this way on the first day of term with him seated at your side. Within the first three minutes you had known each other, he’d ripped off his tie, called it ugly and flung it across the room, all while ranting to you that the colour scheme was an abomination and how the school should have at least hired a competent designer to do their uniform.

You had merely stared at him in wide eyed shock and nodded along with everything he’d said.

And that… was how it’d just happened.

You like to think that you understand him, but it seems a humanly impossible task. Choi San toes the line between sweet as cotton candy and cold as ice like a professional tightrope walker, a double faced enigma that you can never predict. One second, he’s cradling a baby bird in his hands, cooing about how cute it is to you, and the next moment, he’s in a fist fight with another student, your hands pulling on his sleeve as you desperately beg him to stop with tears in your eyes.

Sometimes, you don’t know why San is your friend. All the rest of his gang – ATEEZ, as they call themselves – are what one would label as bad boys, terrible influences, a stain on your school’s otherwise pristine reputation. The two of you are polar opposites, you’re everything he’s not and he’s everything you would have steered clear of.

But here you are, in this strange, peculiar situation, with Choi San still seated at your side two years after your first meeting, his head resting against your shoulder as he dozes off in class.

You jab his side with a pen.

“Psst, San.”

Your best friend cracks open one eye lazily, feet propped up on the table. He’s wearing slippers today, you groan mentally, together with school issue pants and one of his self-designed shirts. Not the typical bad boy image he usually goes for, but then again you know that San had been out clubbing in town till the wee hours of morning, so it explains his state of casual dress. Still, if he was just going to sleep the whole lesson away, he should have just stayed at home!

“Wassgoinon?” San mumbles sleepily into your shoulder and you puff out your cheeks in exasperation, ready to lecture him on how he should be paying attention to the teacher instead of sleeping his life away like an actual cat.

But then one look at how peaceful and serene he looks with his eyes closed has something melting inside and you momentarily falter, chewing on your bottom lip as you struggle to chide him.

Stupid pretty face. Stupid jawline. Stupid dimples.

“If you were just going to sleep you should have just stayed home, you know?” You mutter, running your fingers through the red streaks in his hair that he just refuses to get rid of. He mumbles absentmindedly under his breath, curling into your side like a large cat and your breath hitches in your throat.

You turn to study him a little more intently. He looks tired, with purplish-black bags under his eyes that remind you of bruises, his flawless skin a little more sallow than usual. Frowning, you press a hand to his forehead… and yelp when you realise how feverish he is.

“San, you’re sick!” You whisper worriedly to him as you sit up a little straighter, hand touching his neck, where his leather choker lies. Yup, he’s burning up, alright. Concern shoots through you and you immediately speak your mind. “You should go home.”

But he merely bats your hand away, grumbling incoherently under his breath as he shifts into a more comfortable position against you. “But I wanna stay in school…”

Your eyes widen in horror at the words that have just left his mouth. The fever must have fried his brain, turned it into a smoking pile of mush, because San never wants to stay in school. Truly on the verge of panicking now, you turn towards the teacher at the front of the classroom and raise a hand desperately, trying to grab her attention.

When she does turn to look at you, you gesture at the pouting boy next to you.

“Professor, can San go home first? He’s sick.”

Your best friend doesn’t have the best reputation with the professors, in fact, most of them are scared stiff by him. San is a wild card, you’re never sure what hand he might play when dealing with him, so you can’t really blame the teachers for being terrified of him, but you can’t leave him be like this in class.

The class abruptly falls silent, tension settling over the room like a thick, unbearable smog.

The teacher glances over at the pair of you, looking nervous when her eyes flit over San. “Well, of course Mr Choi can leave-”

“I don’t want to go.” San growls from next to you, starting to rise from his seat with darkening eyes. The teacher actually shrinks back in fear, colour draining from her face at the potential ticking time bomb on her hands. Instead, you smack your best friend over the head, the charms on your bracelet jingling as you scold him for his bratty behaviour.

“San, you’re sick! You need to go home and rest!” You chide, but San merely gives you the best puppy dog eyes he can, a complete opposite of the terrifying glare he’d been projecting earlier.

“I’ll go home if you come with me.” He whines like a petulant puppy, tugging at your sleeve and you groan in exasperation, jerking your head in the teacher’s direction.

“Sanie, lessons are still ongoing! You know I can’t just leave class like that-”

“You can leave too! Please!” The teacher near begs and you scowl at San, who quickly paints the gaze of an innocent angel over the smug, victorious grin on his face. Scowling, you shove your books into your bag before you reach over and grab him hard by the ear, yanking him out of the classroom as he yelps in pain behind you.

“Ow… ow ow ow!” San squawks as you haul him out of the building to the main gate, whipping out your phone with your other hand and speed dialing San’s chauffeur. Honestly, you love San, but sometimes he’s just… ugh.

Ring, ring, ring.

“Good morning, Young Miss. What has Master San done this time?” The dry, monotonous voice of San’s chauffeur and personal assistant comes over the phone and you snort at his opening gambit, both of you all too used to San’s shenanigans.

San flails and struggles against your vice grip on his ear and for a moment you’re afraid that you might actually tear the piercing out of his flesh, so you let him go and he stumbles to the ground dramatically, groaning as he cradles the abused appendage with both hands.

“Surprisingly, nothing. He’s just sick today.” You tell Claude honestly and you can practically hear the stoic man’s eyebrows rise from over the phone.

“He has not? Please, wait for a moment while I check Young Master’s room for him. The one at your side now cannot be the real Master San-”

“You know I can hear the two of you, right?” The topic of your conversation slings an arm over your shoulder, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You shiver at the feeling of his warm breath against the juncture of your shoulder and raise a hand to smack him in the face, but he dodges to the side with ease. “And Claude! I’m supposed to be your master, you know? Could you stop talking about me like a mutt that keeps pissing on the carpet?”

The man draws in a deep breath to counter. “Well, Young Master, perhaps I would have reason to if you behaved more like a young master instead of a dog-”

You shove San away from you and press the phone to your ear once more. “Anyway, Claude, could you please pick up San from school? He’s at the main gate now.”

There’s the purr of the engine over the call, sleek and velvety as you hear the car pull out of the driveway. “Anything for you, young miss. Please keep Master San under containment until I reach the venue.”

San grabs the phone from you in fury and shrieks into the receiver, voice reminiscent of a dying cat. “Stop talking about me like that! And I’m your master, not her, you know-”

The call hangs up abruptly.

You dissolve into fits of laughter at the look of stunned shock on San’s face and pluck the phone from his hands, while he merely continues staring blankly into the space where the mobile device once was. Bopping him once on the nose to snap him out of his daze, you grin smugly at him and wave the phone in your palm. “I told you that Claude likes me more than he likes you. Honestly, sometimes we have tea chats over the nonsense you get up to.”

Your best friend sputters incoherently.

“Preposterous! Unbelievable! Unacceptable!” San’s face is red with disbelief, almost the same hue of crimson as the coat he wears. Giggles nearly spill forth from you at the comical look on his features as you fight to keep your laughter in your chest, admiring the way his flush makes his cheeks like blossoming roses. “I’m going to fire that traitorous little bastar-”

He breaks off into a coughing fit.

“San!” You yelp in horror, dropping all pretense and rushing to his side to support him. Your arms wind around his shoulders and pull him close to you as he bends over still coughing, waving you off with a raspy ‘I’m fine, I’m fine– ’.

“You shouldn’t lie, Young Master.”

Whirling around in surprise, you see Claude standing there, sleek black limousine behind him, posture perfect like a statue, not a thread on his impeccable suit out of place. San had designed it for him with his very own hands, from the sketching of the outfit to the selection of the material, explaining to you every bit about how all these would come together eventually to form a suit perfect for Claude’s thirty seventh birthday gift.

You had strongly vetoed San’s idea of making the suit canary yellow, but that had been one of the experiences that had really bonded the two of you together. You remember staying over at his house till the wee hours of the morning, curled up in his bed with Darong as you watched him work the sewing machine through sleepy, half lidded eyes. When you did fall asleep, you would often wake up a few moments later to see San on the floor of his room, head tilted against the bed in a manner that must surely not have been comfortable, his long fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist and Puchi in his lap as he snoozed away before you.

Innocent and vulnerable.

Your heart softens at the memory.

“What? How did you get here so fast? I swear you’re like… Usain Bolt in disguise or something.” San grumbles as he tosses his backpack with the force he can muster at the chauffeur, the older man catching it easily with the same, unruffled, serene smile on his face.

“Usain Bolt is a respectable Olympic Sprinter, I merely have a very expensive car provided to me by your father. Also, I did tell you this morning that you were sick and needed to stay at home today, but you refused to listen to me and walked all the way here on your own.” Claude answers as he holds open the door to the backseat. San’s face turns even redder at being exposed and your eyes widen in shock.

“Sanie, you walked all the way here this morning? It was pouring buckets!” You exclaim angrily, now thoroughly furious and also confused by why San was so determined to come to school today. There was nothing especially exciting or interesting going on in school, so San’s behaviour was completely counter intuitive. “You’re sick and you don’t carry an umbrella! So that’s why you were so wet this morning! Stay at home next time, you dummy!”

Instead of defending himself, something in San’s eyes soften at your little outburst, the dimples in his cheeks appearing as he gazes at you. “Cute.” He hums under his breath and you recoil a little in confusion, a frown pulling at your lips. San has been doing strange stuff like this recently, dancing hot and cold around you, saying strange things. You chalk this one up to his fever – it must have really fried his brain – and turn your head away to hide your flush.

“I’m just worried, okay?” You mumble, a little embarrassed by his words but you push them out of your mind, forcibly shoving San into the backseat of his car. He nearly trips, stumbles a little, and falls into the leather seat with a yelp. “There! Now, I’m heading back to class–”

His fingers close around your wrist and tug you in after him.

“Sanie!” You shriek in indignation but San merely chuckles tiredly, sagging against your side with his head resting on your shoulder, eyes already sliding shut. You’re about to push him off, but you falter when he sighs gently, his warm breath fanning over your collarbone.

You nearly shiver at the feeling, but keep a hold of yourself.

As Claude closes the door after you and slides into driver’s seat to begin the drive back home, he glances at the interior driver’s mirror to see the peaceful expression on his young master’s face.

He smiles knowingly to himself.


	2. Sick Of These Feelings

The second you step out of the car, you can already hear the mewing of cats.

“Yobu!” You laugh as the tiny grey ragdoll leaps into your arms, fingers brushing its fur back. The tiny feline lets out a content mew and you press a kiss to its adorable nose. You love all of San’s cats, having helped him in taking care of each and every one of them, but you have a soft spot for Yobu in particular. After all, he’s the cat that had allowed you and Seonghwa, one of San’s friends, to meet. the

San looms up behind your shoulder.

“Yah, Yobu, that’s my friend, not yours.” He scolds the kitten sternly and you give San a flat look of exasperation. He doesn’t look intimidating in the slightest, not when he looks like he’s about to topple over any moment. Concern wells up in you once again and you call over your shoulder to Claude, who’s still at the car.

“I’ll bring him up, Claude!”

The chauffeur nods acknowledgement and before San can protest, you’re already pulling him into the mansion after you.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the grandeur and luxury of San’s home. A sprawling, lavish mansion made nearly entirely out of white and grey marble, and designed by a famous architect whose name you can’t quite pronounce, this place screams luxury and wealth. Built alll for the sake of your best friend Choi San, only son to a globally successful business mogul and fashion entrepreneur, you sometimes wonder how cheap money is to people like them. San tries his best to make you forget the gap between the two of you, but other times, it’s near overwhelming for you.

You remember him asking you once, “Why would people buy knock-off goods when they can just get the real ones?”

You had never been so tempted to slap him.

The floor is cool against your bare feet and the helper bows to you as you drag San up the stairs to his bedroom. You’ve been here so many times you could your way around this mansion blindfolded, and the mansion is huge. Your best friend trails after you silently aside from the odd cough, and when the two of you emerge into his room, he merely flops onto his king sized bed with a tired groan.

He must have been really exhausted.

“I’ll go get some warm water and medicine for you!” You chirp and San merely lets out a tired noise of agreement, the sound muffled in the soft, downy pillows on his bed.

When you return with the essentials to make your best friend comfortable, San is curled up in his bed with his face buried underneath his Shiber toy plush, specially customised and hand sewn to look like Shiber. Tapping on his shoulder, you rouse him from his fever induced slumber.

“Hey, San, you need to drink some water and take your meds before you go to sleep.”

He grumbles a little but still complies, sitting up in the bed to face you with a pout, hair mussed from tossing about on the bed. You press the glass of warm water to his dry lips and he tilts his head back to drink, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows it all greedily. Concern wells up in your chest as you look at his pallid face.

He’s probably a lot more sick than he’s letting on.

But that’s just like San, you sigh under your breath as you watch him drink thirstily, rubbing at the bags under his eyes. You wonder why he hasn’t been sleeping enough. Has he been out clubbing again?

You don’t really want to think about the answer.

When that’s done, you grab the pills and tear out two tablets for San, holding them out for him to take. “For your fever. You should be fine when you wake up if you just take a couple of these.” You tell him as you set the now empty glass on his bedside table, but you don’t feel him take the pills from your hand, so you turn around to glance at him.

He stares at you expectantly.

You stare back, befuddled.

“What?”

“Well, aren’t you supposed to put them in your mouth and kiss me like in those movies?” San’s wearing a shit eating grin so wide that you’re not sure whether his brain has really been fried or if he’s just plain crazy. You stare at him in horrified disbelief for a second longer and he merely continues grinning at you like a cat that just got the canary, seemingly pleased with how red your face is becoming. “I’m not eating those on my own, they’re bitter, you know.”

Your mouth falls open at the sheer audacity of his words. Where on earth had they come from?

Then you shriek and clobber him hard over the head with a pillow.

“Ow! Ow! Yeowch! Stop hitting me, woman!” San yelps, scrambling away from you as fast as he can with the blankets tangled around his legs. You chase him with the heavy pillow held high above your head, bringing it down on his head again and again, intent on beating out the stupidity in him. He’s not nearly fast enough in this ill state and before he can reach any relative safety, you’ve already grabbed him by the ankles and are dragging him back to you.

“No! Spare me!” San thrashes about comically, trying to wriggle his way out of your grasp much like an actual cat, but you sit on his back, firmly trapping his flailing arms under your legs and then proceed to attack his sides with an assault of furious tickles.

“Aiiieeeee! Mercy! Have mercy on me!” Screeches fill the air, San’s voice getting increasingly high pitched when your fingers move to his armpits. Only when he’s crying and shouting and laughing weakly through tears all at once do you finally pull off him, smacking him over the head one more time for good measure.

“That’s for saying all those stupid comments!” You shout at him breathlessly, still flushed from a combination of exertion and embarrassment. San sits up next to you, still choking on a few final exhausted giggles, red streaked hair thoroughly mussed from the little roughhousing the two of you just had and the biggest, fondest grin on his face.

You hate how your heart just melts at the sight.

To distract yourself, you shove the pills into his mouth with one hand and San obediently crunches them down this time, watching you intently as you wring out a few damp towels next to him, gesturing for him to lie down. His heart warms in his chest at the sight, and when he closes his eyes, sometimes he just wishes that he could be the right one for you instead–

He purges the thought from his mind before it can go too far.

“Here you go, San.” Your voice is gentle for him, soft, sweet, innocent, a polar opposite to everything he is, so familiar and warm.

He counts it a blessing that you still remain at his side despite everything he’s done, no matter how many tears you shed over him and the times your heart has been rent in two because of his misdoings and fights.

He lays back down on the pillows, eyes shut tight against the sight of your face hovering above his. But as if you’re trying to tempt him unconsciously, you move his head into your lap and he nearly goes rigid in a panic.

“I’ve been talking to Seonghwa a lot recently, you know. He’s a great friend.” You tell him absentmindedly as your soft fingers brush the hair on his forehead back. Something in him twists, a sense of satisfaction that his carefully laid plan is falling into place, but also something darker, something more selfish, a certain sort of gut wrenching emptiness that he doesn’t want to think too much about.

San is still your best friend.

And that’s all he’ll ever be to you.

The cool cloth rests against his forehead and he sighs at how good it feels against his heated skin, but it probably has to do more with how your hands are gently kneading against his temples rather than the actual cloth itself. Upon hearing his little exhale of comfort, you glance at his face with a content smile, shaking your head with some kind of exasperation and warmth settling deep in your chest.

“Are you close to Seonghwa-oppa, San?” You ask as your fingers thread through his hair and he presses into your touch, for some reason desperately craving the feeling of your skin on his. He wants to treasure every last time he gets to be close to you like this, because it might come to an end all too soon.

Why does it hurt?

“He’s a nice guy. Boyfriend material.” San has never had to force a smile around you and it feels wrong on his lips, brittle like cracked glass against his skin. You are the one person he would never want to lie to, but if it’s for the sake of you and Seonghwa’s happiness, who is he to stand in the way?

“Yeah! He’s nothing like you.” You laugh cheerfully, teasingly bopping his nose with a finger and San barely manages to hold back a flinch at your words, his expression twisting in pain as if you’ve just shoved a knife into his chest straight. Honestly, he’d rather you just do that instead, it’d probably hurt a lot less.

“San? San, are you alright?” You frown in concern, bending down to glance at his face. The tips of your hair tickle his face gently and he can feel your breath against his cheeks, and maybe, just maybe, he wants to reach up and just pull you down to him–

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He lies again through his teeth. Maybe if he lies enough times, the pain in his chest will go away. Some part of him wants you to call him out on his deception, but you’ve always been too innocent for the things of this world and San is perhaps just a little too good at hiding his true feelings behind a carefully painted mask. “So, what were you saying again about Seonghwa?”

And he watches your face light up as you chatter animatedly to him about one of his best friends, Park Seonghwa, wondering why his chest hurts so much even when your eyes shine with excitement and joy.

He’s a selfish bastard, and he hates it.

He really needs to get the two of you together before he does something he regrets.


	3. Coffee Memories

You’re sitting at one of the tables in the open area of the coffee shop, watching the birds flutter gracefully overhead as they caw to one another. The bright, multicolored walls of the surrounding shop houses brighten the area, hydrangeas reaching upwards like meandering fingers, their pretty white blooms looking like the puffy white clouds in the blue sky above them.

There’s almost something magical about this moment, at this little coffee shop. It holds so many memories for you and your best friend, from the very first time you learned that the school’s fearsome bad boy only liked his coffee tooth rottingly sweet to the many lighthearted chats you’d had over a shared frappe even though San was rich enough to buy twenty of his own. 

You know this place like it’s the back of your hand, memories tugging at you from every little mismatched table and chair, the chimes dangling from the front door like music to your ears. By all means, this should be a peaceful day for you, sipping coffee at your usual spot with the perfect weather to accompany it… But today?

It’s anything but that.

They spill from the inside of you before you can stop them.

“I think I like San.”

When the words leave your mouth, they’re something along the lines of what you’d call a revelation. It’s as if your eyes have been opened to the truth, like something has been hiding it from you all this while, buried under layers of platonic feelings and the label of mere friendship. It feels like a thousand galaxies have exploded in the space of a single breath, stars and suns dying out all at once, an entire swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You turn to the one sitting opposite you. Park Seonghwa, resident school badboy, kitten lover and one of your new best friends, returns your gaze over the rim of his cup, eyelashes fluttering a little as he takes in your words. Your breath catches and you lean forward in your chair, waiting for him to react, waiting for his verdict…

If you are expecting some form of surprise, a trace of shock, at least, you are sorely disappointed. The older boy merely takes a long, relaxed sip of his cappuccino, sets down the cup with way too much calm for a moment such at this and nods with all the patience of a sage.

“I know.”

He knows?

You nearly choke on your own coffee, turning around to cough rather ungracefully as the hot caffeine scalds your throat. At the sound of your sputtering, Seonghwa yelps in alarm and rushes around the table to slap your back gently in some attempt to help you, “Are you alright?”

You wave him off, setting down your cup unsteadily as you wheeze for air. A little of the coffee spills over the rim and onto the cup. “Y-yeah… Just… Give me a moment.”

As you wipe your mouth, you try to collect your thoughts. What does Seonghwa mean by the fact that he knows? You’ve never told anyone else but him! Hell, even you just found out yourself!

“How-” You cough again and Seonghwa almost reaches over to pat you on the back once more. “How did you know?”

Seonghwa’s hand falters for a split second before it touches you and returns to his side, where it rests next to his half finished cup of coffee, a curious frown pulling on his lips. “I’ll answer your question if you answer mine. When did you realise that you like San-ie?

Your eyebrows pinch together as you try to determine the exact point of time you had realised this fact. Thinking back, you wind back your memories like the film on a cassette tape, watching endearing moments and listening to seemingly simple words replay in your mind over and over again.

The feeling in your chest started about a month ago, when you had been over at San’s house one day after school. San had decided to play truant, calling the lessons boring and had somehow dragged you along with him even though you’d protested the entire way. Claude had nearly had a coronary when the two of you had rung the doorbell of the front gates, lecturing San like a stern father the entire way into the main house. But instead of turning the same venomous gaze onto Claude as San did to all his teachers, your best friend had merely worn a happy smile as he listened to his butler’s nagging, looking the most content you’d ever seen him.

It was still early in the day and you were exhausted from being practically kidnapped by your best friend, so San had suggested playing with his pets. The two of you had sat on the white marbled floors of the mansion’s entry hall, Shiber curled up in San’s lap while you curled your fingers through Darong’s soft grey fur. It had been a warm, peaceful afternoon, and while nothing especially significant had happened at all, you remembered the conversation the two of you had had as if it were just yesterday.

“Doesn’t this feel like a family?”

You paused in stroking Darong, the tiny cat mewing in protest when your hand stilled against its fur. Frowning, you turned around to look at San a little more clearly, taking in the way he was casually lounging against the wall of the hallway. Dressed in sweats and a simple hoodie with a small Shiba Inu snoozing in his lap, he looked nothing like the rebel he was in school, so intensely focused on scratching Shiber behind the ears that you’d briefly wondered if he had said anything at all.

“What did you say?” You asked, reaching to scratch Puchi under the chin and you felt the larger cat purr ever so softly, entire body vibrating as he sank into your touch. The smile came to San’s lips naturally, his eyes never leaving Shiber as he spoke with ease, seemingly lost in thought.

“This. Us.” He emphasized, rolling his lower lip between his teeth. Your eyes were involuntarily drawn to that minute action, fingers slowing under Puchi’s head as you waited for him to elaborate. “This kind of feels like a family, don’t you think?”

You thought about it for a moment, fully intent on teasing him for a moment… but there was something quiet, somber, even, in his tone that stopped you from doing so. Frowning a little, you cocked your head and asked aloud, voice laced with curiosity.

“How so?”

“Well…” San dragged the word out thoughtfully, squeezing Shiber lightly. The dog let out a tiny ‘woof’ and buried his face deeper into San’s belly, sniffing the hem of his master’s shirt. But San didn’t react at all, eyes lost in some imaginary world you couldn’t quite see. “I could be the dad and you could be the mom, you know. And they could be our kids.” 

His free hand, the one that wasn’t resting on the ruff of Shiber’s collar, pointed at the two cats in your lap and for a second, something delicate and soft, like the wings of a butterfly, brushed the edges of your heart.

“Yeah.” You breathed softly, as if you could break the precious silence of the room by speaking just a little too loud, closing your own eyes. “We could be.”

“I’m not sure… Probably a while ago.” You try to play it off. There’s something just too intimate about that moment to you, too precious for you to reveal to even Seonghwa. The blond haired boy merely shrugs, taking a mouthful of his latte. The two of you sit in peaceful silence for a while and you take the opportunity to ponder your thoughts.

San.

Your best friend.

There’s something about him that’s just… different. You aren’t sure how to describe the lightness that you feel when you’re with him, how he seems to intuitively know what to do whenever you’re feeling down. Everyone may call him a rebel, violent, reckless, but really, you know that he is a kind person at heart.

“You’ve changed him, you know?” Seonghwa tells you softly and you’re startled out of your thoughts, staring at him in surprise. You’re utterly confused, quite unable to comprehend his words.

“What do you mean?” You nearly trip over your words in your haste, but Seonghwa merely smiles gently at you, patting your hand with his own. “Ever since coming to this school and meeting you, San has really become so different. From someone who didn’t care about who he hurt, from a person who cared only for himself and enjoyed playing others like they were his own dolls, he’s become so much more… human.”

“What? Nah.” You try to wave his words off, feeling a little embarrassed. There’s no way you could have changed San so much. “San was already a nice person from the beginning, that’s how we got so close-”

“Did he ever tell you why he was expelled from his former school?” Seonghwa asks, voice serious and you halt, swallowing nervously. You know that San had been kicked out of his former school due to misbehavior on his part, but how serious could it be?

“No?”

“He got involved with a drug gang and dealing in contraband. That’s where he met Wooyoung.” Seonghwa tells you grimly and your mouth falls open in horror. You can’t comprehend exactly how serious that must have been. “And while he was high he got reckless and nearly beat another student half to death under the influence. The two of them got expelled together and came here.”

The rest of his words are left unsaid.

Where he met you.

“But… he met the rest of you… of ATEEZ!” You blabber furiously, head spinning in circles now. You don’t know what to say. “I mean, I’m sure all of you would have changed him for the better too! You’re all good friends who’d do anything for each other, wouldn’t you?”

Seonghwa nods firmly without a second’s hesitation at your words, fingers drumming on the side of his cup. “True. I’d do anything for any of my friends. But you see, there’s something different between good friends… and those who are good influences. If San came to any of us with a problem, we’d likely try to beat up the problem for him, take him out to the bar, encourage him to sleep his problem off.” You can’t help but let out a little snort at his words, but Seonghwa hushes you with a sad smile. “But with you? You teach San to rein in his anger, to keep his cool, to be the best person he can possibly be. He wants to be a good person for you.”

You’re stunned into silence.

“But-” You can barely find the words to protest with, reeling from shock. Did you… really do that to San?

“Think back on who he used to be. Whoring around, drinking till the wee hours of morning, hanging out late at parties.” Seonghwa tells you honestly. “But after meeting you, we barely see him there anymore. For example, last Tuesday’s party at Changbin’s house-”

“San, I’m stressed!”

“Oh?” Your best friend’s amused voice came over the phone as you whined and flopped onto your bed, notes sprawled over the sheets. “Isn’t the test tomorrow?”

You sat up so fast you could feel the bones in your back creaking, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “How do you of all people know that there’s a test tomorrow?”

“You’ve been ranting about it for the past week, silly.” He said so fondly that you couldn’t help but let out a little giggle. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Could you bring over Darong for me to pet?” You joked, closing your eyes as you imagined running your fingers through the kitten’s soft fur. San’s house was at the opposite side of town, you mused to yourself in disappointment. What a pity, or you would have headed over to his mansion to give the small cat hugs and kisses-

Minutes later after you had hung up, San had arrived at your doorstep, a soft grey kitten in a basket under his arm and a stack of notes in his hands. Upon seeing your dumbstruck face, he had merely grinned, bopped you on the nose and jerked his head at the door.

“Wanna study together?”

“I told him I was stressed out over tests and he came over to study with me.” You recall, eyes widening. You weren’t aware that there was a party last Tuesday! “San didn’t tell me-”

“He wanted to spend time with you.” Seonghwa informs you gently, shaking his head in light amusement. “And we both know-”

“-San hates studying.” You finish off his sentence and Seonghwa chuckles softly, nodding. Then his smile softens into something a little more warm, a little more sweet and you can’t help but return it, your thoughts wandering to San.

Has he really changed that much?

“True love changes people.” Seonghwa tells you, beaming. “And even if you didn’t love San, I honestly think he’s already fallen for you. Hard, actually.”

Now that you can wave off confidently. “Nah, he just sees me as a friend.”

The side of Seonghwa’s lip quirks upwards and he leans forward, thumb swiping a bit of cream smudged on the side of your mouth and you yelp in shock, batting his hand away. You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. “Seonghwa-oppa, what are you-”

“San does that to you all the time, you know?” Seonghwa grins, a mischievous grin playing on his lips and you blanch in realisation. You’d never realised-

Suddenly, it starts raining.

“Let’s go!” Seonghwa grabs your wrist and the two of you run for shelter, Seonghwa pulling you under the canvas of the shop’s awning. You’re breathless, wet from the rain, but you can’t help but laugh brightly as the truth comes to you, so much more clear this time.

“I love San.” You say louder this time and Seonghwa smiles near radiantly at you, slinging his leather jacket around your shoulders. It’s warm, but you crave for the thick wool of San’s red coat, the familiar scent that lingers there at the collar.

You want him.

“So take this until San gives you his coat instead.” He laughs and you wrap your arms around him to give him a big hug. 

“Thank you, Seonghwa-oppa.”

The silver charms on your bracelet clink against each other as if calling to something, and you glance up in surprise.

There’s a lone man in the middle of the street, standing alone in the pouring rain, wearing a black coat and a cap tugged low over the his eyes, hands shoved in his pockets. Something about his posture, the slight sag of his shoulders and the way his head is tilted downwards, it makes you feel sad for him. Is he alright?

Squinting, you lean forward to catch a glimpse of his features, but the man merely hikes up the collar of the coat before you can see his face.

But he seems familiar… somehow.

“Seonghwa-oppa.” You tug at the older boy’s sleeve insistently, urgently, and he turns to look at you in confusion. You point at the man, certain that you’ve seen him somewhere before.

“Do you recognise him-”

But before you can finish your sentence, he’s already gone.


	4. Chapter 4

You and San sit beneath the ivy covered frames, a thick book in your lap as you flip through the pages, thoroughly engrossed in the story. Above you, golden warmth touches your cheeks and falls onto the aged paper of one of your favourite novels while San snoozes on the tabletop opposite you, head resting on his forearms. Sighing, you put your book down for a moment to look at San, admire how peaceful he looks when he’s asleep, the world slowing down and fading all around you, universe reduced to only you and him.

“I love San.”

Your fingers grip the material of your shirt, as if you could reach through your very chest and relieve the phantom ache of your heart. San is unimaginably dear to you and the truth is like a raging sea, locked deep in your body. Seonghwa had told you that San truly did love you too with every fibre of his being and you want to believe the older man so badly, but fear digs its claws deep into you and you can’t help but wonder…

What if he doesn’t love you like you love him?

That thought scares you like nothing else.

“One caramel frappe and and a mocha latte.”

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the voice of the waiter as he sets two drinks before you on the tabletop. Your eyes widen slightly at the extra order and you frown, glancing upwards to look at the waiter. “I’m sorry, but we didn’t order the mocha lat-”

“No, I did.” San cuts in smoothly and you start in surprise, you thought he’d been fast asleep. You’re stunned for a moment, cocking your head curiously to look at your best friend as he reaches for the hot drink. San busies himself with stirring the contents of the cup for a while, but your gaze doesn’t let up and he sighs, raising a hand to close your mouth for you. “Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.”

You shut your mouth, but you’re still staring at him in confusion as you reach for your own drink. “But… we always share a frappe.” You mumble, near petulantly. It shouldn’t mean so much, it’s only a drink, of all things, but it does to you. The two of you have always shared the same drink every time you’ve come to this cafe, regardless of rain or shine, regardless of happiness or sadness. To not do so is like breaking tradition, a change that you really don’t like. San must see the unhappy look on your face, because he hesitates for a second before pressing the latte to his lips.

“I just thought… I wanted to try something different.”

Your eyebrows pinch together at his words, because as flawless as the mask San wears, you’ve known him long enough to pick up the tiny breadcrumbs in his demeanor, hidden meanings behind his words. The sentence holds more weight than it appears to, but exactly what he’s trying to say, you don’t quite understand at the moment.

In an attempt to lighten what feels like a rapidly thickening mood, you force a smile onto your face and reach for San’s hand, the charms around your wrist tinkling in the summer air. “Seonghwa and I are going to study for our tests tonight over at my house, do you want to come with us?”

He tries to hide it, but you see him flinch and panic grows, little by little.

“Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to interrupt.” San replies a little too quickly, tone a little too cold and you find an uncomfortable feeling twisting about in your gut, he raises the cup to his lips and downs the entire thing in one gulp before rising to his feet. Dread fills you, San’s uncharacteristic behaviour is throwing you off more and more and you can’t help but worry about just what is on his mind.

“Sanshine-” You try to say, but San cuts you off quickly, mercilessly, before the rest of your words can leave your mouth.

“I need to get going, I have stuff to do tonight.” He murmurs softly, his eyes downcast; he’s not quite meeting your eye. You want to catch him by the hand, hold him close and demand to know why exactly he’s acting this way, but before you can do anything along those lines, San has already turned on his heel and left the cafe, striding out with quick, brief steps… as if you’re something he can’t wait to get away from.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You moan despondently as you grab a pillow and roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling of your bedroom. It’s decorated with stickers of little cats, placed there by San, you recall glumly. Seonghwa looks up from the biology notes sprawled across his lap across the room, leaning slightly against the edge of your desk to face you more comfortably.

“You’ve been awfully distracted the last few hours and it’s nearly nine already.” The older man says with a wry smile on his face. For such an infamous “bad boy”, Park Seonghwa is remarkably sensitive to moods and feelings, you’ve realised. “What happened today?”

“I hung out with San today at the cafe we always go to, but he was acting weird.” Your pen goes flying across the room as you take out your frustrations, Seonghwa’s eyes following its flight trajectory overhead. “After he told me he had stuff to do tonight, he just left me there! He even ordered a mocha latte instead of sharing the frappe with me. He’s never done that before!”

“Oh?” The blond sounds rather amused by your little outburst but you don’t notice, instead continuing with your little rant. “I can’t believe I just found out that I like him and he’s suddenly being all strange? What if he’s tired of me as a friend? What if he doesn’t like me anymore? What if he–”

“Calm down and breathe. San isn’t the sort of person to just grow tired of his friends.” Seonghwa soothes you gently and you catch yourself, fanning your face to get rid of the heat that has built up there. “Maybe you should visit San at his house and confront him about it, I’m sure that’ll make you feel better.”

You pause for a second to consider the idea. In all honesty, it’s not a bad one, and there’s a rampant curiosity in your chest that refuses to go away until it’s satiated with the answers it desires. “But we were studying…” You turn to look at Seonghwa with an apologetic frown, but the older boy just waves it off, smiling brightly at you.

“Your relationship with San is more important.” He says reassuringly and you nod with urgency, feeling adrenaline pumping through your veins from the excitement and anticipation of seeing San again. Snatching your wallet and keys from the table, you slip and slide dangerously on your way out of the room and nearly give Seonghwa a heart attack when you come dangerously close to tumbling down the stairs in your haste.

“Good luck!” He calls after you, but he merely gets the sound of the door slamming in reply and chuckles.

The bus ride across town to San’s house is long enough for you to calm down and think seriously about what this could mean for you. Your head pressed against the glass panels of the bus window, you had wondered what his behaviour could mean, what he really felt about you. So far, you were unable to come up with any concrete answers, with San’s unabashed personality, if he did like you, wouldn’t he just have told you straight to your face?

Or could Seonghwa be wrong?

Grumbling to yourself under your breath, you stomp up the hill that San’s mansion is on, anxiety and worry twisting inside of you with every step you take. The closer you draw to your answers, the more you want to flee from them; San was always the braver of the two of you. You tuck your hands in your pockets and glance up at the night sky overhead to gain control over your emotions, but they don’t want to leave, instead nestling even deeper into you, burrowing into your chest and clinging on tight.

With a sigh, you stop in front of the iron wrought gates and, before you can allow hesitation to undo all that you’re determined to do, smash the doorbell with all the strength you have. Seconds tick by and stretch into what feels like hours, every breath leaving your lips slow and unsteady. When the gates finally do creak open, you raise your head, expecting to see San standing there, but to your surprise, it’s someone else dressed in a dark suit and a worried frown.

“Claude?” Your eyes widen and you glance around him, as if expecting to see San behind him. “Where’s San?”

“Young Master left earlier this evening, but he didn’t tell me where he was going.” Claude tells you worriedly, shaking his head. Then the butler is searching your eyes and you pull back, suddenly a little uncomfortable at his intense stare. “Young Miss, did you have a fight with Master San earlier today?”

That question doesn’t make sense to you for a moment, individual words and meanings floating around in your frazzled mind before you manage to string them into a sentence that you can comprehend. “What?” Is all you manage to say, breathless and confused. Why would Claude think that you and San had argued today? In fact, you were confused about why San seemed so unhappy around you today.

“Young Master left this behind when he went out.” Claude tells you seriously, rummaging around in his suit pocket for something. You frown, leaning over to glance over at what the older man has in the palm of his hand.

What you see shocks you.

It’s the cat charm bracelet that you and San share.

“I know it’s not much, but happy birthday, Sanshine.” You tell him happily, doing the clasp around his wrist. San raises his hand to admire the simple black band, the silver cat charm dangling from it. Satisfied with your work, you sit back on your heels and show him your own wrist with a grin. “Now we match!”

San’s smile softens as he runs his fingers along the cool metal, beaming brightly at you.

“I’ll never take it off.”

San, what changed?

Fear slams into you for a second, insecurities and worries and panic settling over you as you reach over to take the bracelet from Claude with shaking fingers. “Why would San leave this behind?” You whisper to yourself, clutching the silver charms tight in your hand. The bell hanging at the end of it tinkles cheerfully, in stark contrast to the storm of emotions you’re experiencing.

Does San… Does San not want the two of you to be friends anymore?

“Young Miss, do you want to find Young Master San and speak to him? He’s been worrying me that last few days.” Claude says grimly and for a second, you want to say no, because the signs couldn’t be more obvious, San doesn’t like you and doesn’t want to be friends with you anymore. Your hopeful heart for anything more shatters like glass, but you wipe tears you hadn’t even known were falling and look up determinedly at the stoic butler.

“I want to see him.”

You refuse to let him slip past your fingers without answers, because he’s worth more than that.

You love him, even if he doesn’t love you back.


	5. Chapter 5

Phone in hand, you run for the club as fast as you can.

Your feet slap against the wet pavement, little ripples in the puddles of rain left in your wake as you rush towards your destination, eyes glued to the glowing screen of your phone, fixed firmly on that tiny blinking red dot. Your legs are burning from the expected strain of them, but you don’t let up till you’re at the main entrance of the building that San is at.

Neon strobe lights hurt your eyes and you can already hear the raucous timbre of the disco music being blasted inside, the sound reverberating out onto the street outside. You spot the to be party goers mingling behind the red rope, chattering excitedly and dressed to the nines in killer outfits that shine brighter than your future and probably cost more than your college education.

This is definitely not your scene.

Swallowing, you glance down at yourself… you hadn’t really been thinking straight when you’d left the house, you’re dressed in a simple pair of shorts and a tee, nothing too scrappy but definitely not anything suitable for a night out at a club. A groan leaves you and you stare at the daunting sight before you once again, chewing nervously at your bottom lip as you contemplate turning back… and maybe just confronting San another day…

But then you snap back to your senses and give yourself a little slap, because what if this is your last chance? What if after tonight, San tells you he doesn’t want to speak or see you anymore? As unrealistic as it sounds, as irrational as your fears are, if there’s even the slightest chance it could happen, you’re not taking it – Choi San is worth more than your pride.

So you gather your courage, square your shoulders, and march to the main entrance at very front of the line.

Instantly, the mindless chattering all around you falls silent, so silent you could hear a pin drop on the wet asphalt. Panic and just sheer awkwardness crawls over your introverted skin, you weren’t made for places like this! But you force your unease down and meet the bouncer in the eye, he’s a hulking mass of steely muscle with a glint in his eye that almost scares the shit out of you literally (and probably would have if you hadn’t remembered that you had a mission to accomplish here).

He looks you up and down with a dismissive eye, barely needing to incline his head, he’s so tall. Then he leans down the slightest bit to look you directly in the eye with a near frightening stare, muscles in his neck rippling. “The end of the queue is over there, little girl.”

You swallow involuntarily, a bead of sweat running down the back or your neck and sliding down your clothes, the weight of everyone’s gazes on your back is highly uncomfortable but you ignore it in favour of keeping your gaze even and your voice steady. “I’m here to find a friend.”

“I don’t care what your reason is, in case you didn’t hear me the first time, the back of the queue is there.” The bouncer enunciates more slowly for you this time, as if you’re the one who’s drunk. “I can’t let you in unless the queue is gone, kid. There are plenty of people who want to get into this club who’ve been out here waiting since dusk.”

Your fingers twist in the hem of your shirt from nerves as you desperately try to think of a way out, unsure of what else you could do to make the man let you in. Glancing back at the queue, you’re horrified to see that it stretches around three blocks and disappears down a street, further than your eye can see. Waiting isn’t a viable option, but you don’t really have another choice unless it’s…

You force a polite smile on your face to mask the sheer panic you feel and meet the bouncer in the eye; he does not look the least bit amused. “I’m looking for Choi San.” You manage to say without bumbling like a complete fool, but using San’s name does seem to have its intended effect.

The bouncer’s eyes widen imperceptibly in surprise, just enough for you to notice up close. Then his eyebrows pinch together and his mouth pulls downwards in an unamused scowl. “It’s impossible for a person like you to know Choi San. Don’t lie to me, kid.”

You dig the bracelet out of your pocket and shove it in his face, from the way his lips part with a little intake of breath you know he must have seen it before and part of you is… happy… that he recognises it, for some strange reason. “I’m here to return his bracelet to him and then I’ll get out of your hair. Now, are you going to let me in or not?”

You’re not used to being so confident and out there, but there’s a rush of adrenaline flowing through your veins right now from the anticipation. The bouncer’s eyes narrow and for a long moment, you hold his sharp gaze evenly, unwilling to back down till he lets you in.

He backs down first with a sigh, moving towards to the rope that holds the door closed, unhooking it and ushering you inside. Behind you, you can hear angry protests of the people standing in the line, but you ignore them in favour of stepping into the club, eager to get to where San is.

The bouncer grabs your wrist with a warning glare and you whirl around to stare at him in confusion. “If something happens to you in there, missy, it’s not on me. Don’t get into any trouble and get out as fast as you can.”

You grin at him. “Thanks.”

Then you duck inside before he can say anything else.

Immediately, all five of your senses are assaulted by loud noises and bright lights coming from every direction. Bright purple neon juxtaposed against cool black leaves your eyes reeling from the colour contrast, the smell of smoke, sweat and even more alcohol so heavy and thick in the air you can taste it on your tongue. Biting on your lower lip in an attempt to remain calm in the midst of a mass of sweaty, gyrating human bodies, you stand on tip toes and try to search the dark, flickering room for San.

It proves to be a near inhuman feat. Groaning, you pull out your phone and search the map once again, sure enough, your little blue dot has overlapped with San’s red one to form a blinking purple circle, indicating that he is indeed here at this club… but where is he?

“Hey, little missy. This doesn’t look like your scene.” A voice comes from behind you and you jerk in surprise, whirling around to see someone standing there against the wall, exuding such an air of casual confidence that you can’t help but be blown away by it. His hair is blond and tousled into waves, held away from his forehead by a black bandanna to show off beautiful, dark eyes that remind you of sweet, sweet danger. Every instinct goes on high alert instantly and you actually find yourself taking a step back to take him in, he’s dressed in an all black ensemble that’s simple and stylish at the same time.

He meets your eyes with a smirk that you, for some reason, don’t find sleazy and cocks his head to the side playfully, teasingly. “What are you doing here dressed like that, darling?”

You’re on guard around him, tense, and he can see it, he enjoys it. He hasn’t moved an inch but you feel like you’re the one who’s been backed into a corner like a trapped animal, dangerous tension sparking between the two of you as you meet each other’s eyes.

“I’m here for a friend.” You spit out, suddenly desperate to get away from this man that practically oozes danger and appeal all at once. There’s a look in his eye that makes unease bubble in the pit of your stomach and when he takes a step forward, you actually flinch, every muscle in your body getting ready to run.

“Oh? Where is he then?” The man continues stepping closer and closer, and you practically freeze on the spot when he comes within an arm’s length of you. You can feel his hot breath against your cheeks, smell the slight scent of cologne and smoke clinging to his warm skin, feel the heat radiating off him. You don’t even realise you’re moving backwards till you’re backed into the wall, so completely taken by the sheer intensity of his gaze.

He leans in close but never quite touches you, only letting his words brush your bare skin as one hand comes up beside your head, he’s too close for your liking, too seductive than what you can deal with. “Why don’t we leave this place, darling, just you and me– ”

You’re about to cut him off mid-sentence politely, saying that you really need to look for your friend, but he never gets a chance to finish his sentence.

“Get the hell away from her, Wooyoung!”

Your eyes fly open in surprise at the sound of that voice and in the next second, the man is ripped away from you violently and thrown against the wall to your side. Your hands fly over your mouth to prevent the shout of horror from escaping you, but the blond doesn’t seem the least bit fazed at the sight of your best friend pinning him to the wall by the neck.

“What the hell were you doing to her?” San snarls venomously, digging his forearm into the blond’s throat. The blond simply looks down at him with a cocky grin, completely unrepentant as he shrugs. “What does it matter to you?”

San’s face twists in fury at those words frighteningly quick, you feel every drop of blood drain from your face when he raises a fist–

“San!” You cry out, running to his side and yanking on his arm as hard as you can. You’ve never seen San like this, so dark and filled with rage that it almost scares you. “He wasn’t doing anything to me! Stop it!”

San hesitates, fingers clenching and unclenching as he considers your words, the impulsive white hot rage burning behind his eyes simmering ever so slightly. Then he rips his hand from the blond and storms out of the club, leaving the blond rubbing the bruises on his throat with an exaggerated sigh.

“I’m sorry!” You bow once quickly and turn around to chase after San before he can disappear before your eyes again.

The blond sighs at the mess around him and gestures for all the onlookers to get back to their business, making his way over to the bar counter and seating himself on one of the seats there. “Some ice please, Mr Bartender.” He fingers the bruise at his adam’s apple with curiosity, an amused smile tugging on his lips. “I haven’t seen San-ie this worked up since we got expelled from our old school. It’s rather fun to watch him, isn’t he?”

“You shouldn’t have provoked him like that, Wooyoung-ah.” A smooth baritone tells him dryly as he slides a mojito over to him with a disapproving frown. Wooyoung merely grins as he scoops out two ice cubes and holds them to his throat, feeling the cold numbing the ache there, but the adrenaline he feels rushing through his body right now makes it so worth it. “You knew who she was to San, don’t lie to me. It’s like you’re trying to get yourself killed.”

“If I hadn’t done that, that coward would have tried to escape the club. I saw him moving towards the back doors when she came, so I just put on a little show for him to watch. It worked.” Wooyoung shrugs, raising the glass to his lips and taking a mouthful of his drink. Then he yelps and spits it into the potted plant next to him as fast as he can, mouth puckering uncontrollably. “That was the sourest thing I’ve tasted my entire life! What the hell, Yeosang? We’ve been friends for four years and this is how you treat me?”

Yeosang snorts as he wipes his glasses down with a clean cloth, shaking his head. “It’s precisely because we’ve been friends for four years that I’m doing this. You need to stop living so on the edge, it’s going to get you dead in a ditch one day.”

Wooyoung simply shrugs. “I’ll be fine.” Then he winces and presses the ice cubes a little more firmly against his skin, muttering under his breath. “If that little shit doesn’t get back together with her by tomorrow morning, I’m going to wring his neck for him, the fool.”

Yeosang looks over at his friend from behind the counter and rolls his eyes, but there’s a good-natured smile on his lips.

“San!”

Outside, you chase after San into a dark alleyway behind the club, before he can take another step you grab his wrist firmly with both hands and yank him backwards. He nearly stumbles at the force of your insistence, unbalanced from drink and alcohol, but finally turns around to face you, head hanged and not quite meeting your eye, clearly uncomfortable.

“What were you doing here?” San mumbles, words slightly slurred and barely loud enough for you to hear. “Weren’t you supposed to be studying at home with…” He falters for a moment and you frown in confusion, how has he forgotten the name of his own friend?

“Seonghwa and I were studying, but you were acting weird this morning so I went over to your house to ask you what was going on! Claude told me you weren’t at home so I came over to find you myself, only for you to almost get into a fight with someone else–”

San snorts, slumping against the wall with his eyes closed as he rubs his temples. “Wooyoung will be fine. That little bastard knew what he was doing the whole time, edging me on… it was a smart move, I’ll concede…”

You pause for a second. Wooyoung, Wooyoung, Wooyoung… the name sounds familiar… then it hits you. Your eyes widen and you stare at San in shock. “Isn’t Wooyoung that best friend of yours? Are you drunk? You nearly killed him! He didn’t even do anything to me!”

San’s face darken at your words, rising to his feet and lurching forward to stand dangerously close to you. But unlike with Wooyoung, you don’t feel the least bit of fear – San would never allow himself to hurt you, drunk or otherwise. “What the hell were you doing in a place like this, you idiot? What would you have done if Wooyoung wasn’t just playing around and if I weren’t there? Don’t you know you could get hurt?”

“But you were there.” You fire back, insistent. “That’s why I went there. I want to be where you are, is that so wrong?”

San groans, dragging a hand down his face. “The kind of places I go to are the places you shouldn’t be going to! Stay away from me, alright?”

But you’ve had enough of his nonsense and yank the bracelet from your pocket, shoving it in his face. His own eyes widen at the sight and he tries to snatch it from you, but you jerk it out of his reach and shove it back in your own pocket fiercely. “Is that why you took it off, San? I thought we had a promise! Best friends forever, remember?”

You’re furious, but every trace of anger evaporates in the next second, you’re completely stunned when you see a tear escape San, one at first, than two, then more and more, until San’s head is hung and you can’t see his eyes anymore, tears streaking down his cheeks and dripping to the ground. Horror overtakes you and you step forward, gripping his arm tightly. “San! San, what happened–”

Before you can say anything else, San yanks you into his chest and buries his face into your shoulder, trying to stifle his sobs. You’re still upset with him, but for now you just wrap your arms around him, the charms on your own wrist jingling. It’s not like San to be this emotional, you think worriedly… he must have had a lot more to drink than what you had thought. Then he speaks.

“I can’t belong to you anymore.” He mumbles into the crook of your neck brokenly, warm trails running down your shoulder. You utterly confused at his strange words, but then he continues and then you finally get it. “Seonghwa’s so much better for you, such a better person, he’s nice, he’s sweet, he’s kind… I want the best for you, I really do, but why can’t I stop selfishly loving you and just give you to him instead?”

Oh.

Oh.

You don’t know what to feel for a second, every thought has fled your mind and you don’t know what to say, left wordless. San likes you. Choi San actually likes you. And he thinks you like Seonghwa.

This fool.

Your lips work to form words that you’re not even sure of, but before you can, you feel San slump against you, his weight resting on your shoulder and it’s all you can do to keep him upright, you can feel his snores against your skin. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry, instead you settle on doing both, a happy, weak chuckle escaping you as a single tear rolls down your cheek.

“Tell me that again when you’re sober, pabo.” You press a kiss to his temple and turn towards the mouth of the alleyway, pulling San along with you, his warm body pressed against yours. You hear San mumble drunkenly “morning?” under his breath, half asleep and completely knocked out, but you take another step forward, heart overflowing with emotions in this dark night.

Just until next morning.

You can wait that long.

The next morning, San’s eyes blink open, only to be pummeled in the face by a massive headache.

“Ow…” He groans, hunching over on the bed as he presses his fingertips against his forehead, it’s throbbing, alright. Just exactly how much did he drink last night? He clearly had one too many… had Claude driven him back?

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to remember the events of the night before… he recalls drinking at the bar with Wooyoung and Yeosang, his shock at seeing you enter the club, searching for someone who could only be him… He remembers trying to run away, seeing Wooyoung brazenly flirting with you and making you feel uncomfortable, red filling his vision and then…

What?

What had happened?

You.

Where were you?

Panic crashes into him and he jumps out of bed as fast as he physically can, bare feet touching the wooden floorboards of your room… your room… San’s brain stops working altogether as he gapes at his surroundings… a vase of spring daffodils he had given you a few days ago at the desk… framed photographs of him, you and Seonghwa on the walls… your biology textbooks on the shelves…

A jingling noise catches his attention and he raises a hand to stare at his wrist in complete and utter shock. It’s his charm bracelet, the one with a bell, around his wrist.

How did that get there? He clearly remembers leaving that with Claude before he left the house… unwilling to look at it again…

He looks down, and he’s shirtless. He looks around. It’s your room. He looks down at himself again.

He’s still shirtless.

San screams.

“What happened?” You burst into the room, holding a spatula menacingly and wearing a worried expression on your face. San only screams louder, yanks the blanket up to his chest and wags a shaking finger at you, looking positively horrified. “I… We… Room… Bed-”

“No, we didn’t sleep together, idiot, I took the sofa.” You roll your eyes and step over with three quick steps to gently press a kiss to his cheek. San immediately halts all movement altogether, becoming as still as a statue with comically wide eyes and a mouth hanging wide open. He doesn’t even move when you step out of the room, and a little part of you feels satisfied that you’ve finally managed to get him back for all those times he’s teased you before.

When you finally return with a tray of warm soup, a glass of warm water and some Advil, San is still standing there, blankly staring into space with one hand pressed to his cheek. You tell him to sit and he does, staring at you in shock the whole time.

“Here.” You pass him the cup and the pills and he swallows them with a gulp of water, shaking his head to regain his bearings. When he looks at you once more, you smile warmly at him with a little, knowing glint in your eye that honestly frightens him a bit.

“How did I get here?” San manages to croak out, his throat raw from the alcohol the night before. You grin a little cockily at him and his heart stutters in his chest, you seat yourself opposite him and take his hand in yours.

San’s eyes widen slightly, you’re behaving uncharacteristically forward with him today. It takes him by surprise but you don’t seem the least bit fazed, instead leaning even closer to meet his eyes with the biggest, brightest grin on your face.

Everything is going into overdrive, he thinks, slightly dazed.

“Someone confessed to me last night.” You whisper confidentially into his ear, eyes so bright and smile so positively radiant that he can’t help but feel happy for you, even though he absolutely despises what this means: Seonghwa must have confessed to you yesterday while the two of you were studying… and he… and he…

You continue rambling with a grin and San allows himself to wallow in his own grief for a moment while you’re distracted. “I’m so happy, you know! Because I’ve liked him secretly for such a long time, but I thought he didn’t like me back… Hey, San! Are you happy for me?”

San snaps back into reality, forcing a smile on his face that he hopes passes for genuine as he nods slowly, eyes downcast. “Yeah…” He can’t meet your gaze right now.

Then, all of a sudden, you smile at him, intertwining your fingers with him and raising your interlocked hands for him to see, your bracelets touching. Your eyes find him, determined and burning with intensity, and his breath leaves him for a moment at the latent fire in your gaze.

“San, would you be mine?”

San chokes.


	6. Meow

The choking doesn’t go very well.

He hacks, once, twice, many times and you pat his back in alarm, raising the glass of water to his lips and he takes a deep drink, adam’s apple bobbing and finally setting the glass to the side, still looking just as shocked as before.

He wheezes, takes a deep breath, then looks at you once again incredulously, as if you’ve just sprouted a second head.

“What?” 

You double over with laughter, giggles bubbling up from the back of your throat and working their way up into your mouth in response. When you see him give you a disgruntled look, you just start laughing all over again, tiny tears of amusement welling in the corners of your eyes.

“Please don’t make jokes like that.” San grumbles, eyes downcast as he looks away, voice hoarse as he reaches for the glass of water again to occupy his hands, something, anything.

For a second, he’d almost gotten his hopes up, but it was an unrealistic hope, a foolish one, and he knows it all too well. After all, this hope is what has kept him up countless nights before, is what has sent him to the club several nights in a row in order to forget, is what he never manages to let go of, no matter how much he knows…

“You have to admit it was funny.” You smile, pick up the bowl of soup and raise a spoonful to his lips. “Say ‘ahh’.” 

San flushes pink, glancing to the side in a bid to avoid your gaze. “I’m not a kid, I can do it myself.” He makes to reach for the bowl, nearly stumbles when his head refuses to cooperate, and you reach over to steady him, tucking him back into bed. 

“Don’t move. Just let me take care of you.” You tell him insistently, and when he lets out a sound of protest, you stick the spoon into his mouth happily and he nearly chokes again.

“Isn’t this… kind of inappropriate when you have a boyfriend already?” San mumbles under his breath as you lift another spoon to his mouth. You pause, frown, and tap the spoon against your lips, the spoon that had just been in his mouth, oh my…

“Well, I said that he confessed to me, but I don’t think he was exactly serious about it. He might not even remember it, honestly. He was drunk, you see.” You tell him and San almost spits blood, Seonghwa was drunk around you? Who knows what he might have done? Inebriated men were the most dangerous! And the little fool had tried to confess to you when he was drunk? How insincere was that?

“How stupid is he?” San blurts out furiously, moving to climb out of the bed and you look up at him in alarm, pushing him back down by the shoulders before he can stand. “Woah, woah, woah, where are you going, San-ie?”

“He tried to confess to you when he was drunk?” He begins to ramble, still trying to get out of the bed while you attempt to wrestle him back under the blankets. “What is that pabo thinking? I’m gonna march over to his house and break that nose of his, the little shit-”

You pause, eyes narrowing quizzically. “You’re going to break whose nose now?”

San scowls, still trying to get out of the bed with your hands locked around his wrists. “Seonghwa, of course! How dare that idiot try to confess to you when he’s drunk? What was he doing drunk around you in the first place?” You open your mouth to say something but he continues ranting, arms flailing. “You need to take better care of yourself! Who knows what he might have done to you? And-”

“San-ie,” you cut him off with an amused sigh. “The person who confessed was you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Wait, what?

“What?” San blusters, but then it comes back to him, him standing in the rain, your arms wrapped around him, his head buried in your shoulder as he sobbed and he had… oh…

He’d confessed.

San lets out a massive groan, tossing his head back into the pillow and yanks the blankets over his head, stifling a silent scream. He’s so stupid, holy hell, and he just up and confessed to you like the very same insincere bastard he’s been telling you about.

“San-ie, what are you doing?” You attempt to pry the covers off him but he refuses to budge, fighting to keep the blankets over his face. “Let me just stay here and rot away in my shame… I’m never going to see the sunlight ever again…”

“Don’t exaggerate.” You pinch his cheek through the blanket and he yelps. “How are you going to confess to me properly if you’re going to hide under the blankets forever?”

He stills for a second, heart pounding in his chest. Wait… you’re giving him a second time to confess to you? Then he recalls what you had told him before, that a person you’d liked for a long, long time had confessed to you, and if that person was him, then…

“The person you like…” He manages to croak out finally, pulling the blankets down a peep just so that his eyes can meet yours, “That person is… me?”

You sigh, put the bowl down and give him a fond, exasperated smile. “Yes, it’s you. Even before meeting Seonghwa-oppa, it’s always been you, San-ie. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how you never managed to catch on when I was so obvious. Aren’t you supposed to be the observant one-”

You never manage to finish that sentence, because before you do, San crashes into you, arms wrapped around your shoulders impossibly tight, drawing you close. you raise your hands and place them on his back, so gentle, so loving.

“Thank you.” He manages to choke out through a stifled sob and you nuzzle his hair, pressing a soft kiss against his head. “Thank you.”

You hold him there like that for a moment, rocking him back and forth gently and he presses his face into your neck, unwilling to let go and you laugh. “I know the hugging is nice and all, but how are you going to kiss me if you don’t let go of me, San?”

A soft, breathy laugh escapes him as he pulls away from you, he cradles your cheeks in his hands as if he’s holding something infinitely precious, eyes turning soft as one of his thumbs swipe across your lower lip, and he leans in to kiss you.

It’s softer than baby’s breath, deeper than the oceans, sweeter than all the honey in the world.

When he pulls away, gasping for breath, his eyes are damp. He takes both your hands in his, dropping gentle kisses along your knuckles and smiles up at you, so painfully bright it’s like staring into the sun.

“I love you.” He confesses, so earnestly that you can’t help but tease him.

“I know.”

San yelps in protest and you laugh, intertwining your fingers with his and pushing him back with the soft pressure of your lips on his until his back hits the soft cotton of your bed sheets, you press a sweeter kiss to his lips that let him know just how much you love him.

The cats on your bracelets click and interlock, and all is right in the world.

>>>

“There’s one thing I’m confused about, though.” San suddenly says, frowning and you cock your head at him, questioning. He scratches his chin. “How exactly did Claude track me?”

“He puts trackers in all of your clothing items.” You tell him and San wheels on you in an instant, eyes wide with horror. 

“What?”


End file.
